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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689515">do not go gentle into that good night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClickBearr/pseuds/ClickBearr'>ClickBearr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Hand-wavey Science, Inspired by Interstellar (2014), Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Wormholes, space travel, time dilation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:14:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClickBearr/pseuds/ClickBearr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“The world’s dying, Steve,” Tony says softly. “You look at the Bartons and you see them burning their okra and you think - maybe next year, it’ll be better. Maybe next year you won’t have to live in fear because you never know when the blight’s gonna get your corn. But next year’s not coming. This is as good as it’ll be. It’s all going to go downhill from here, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. We’ve needed to leave for a while now. Earth was screaming it at us, but we were all too deaf to hear her. So - if this is something I can do to help, then I think I should do it.”</p>
<p>or: Tony's always saving the world instead of himself. Interstellar AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner &amp; Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) &amp; Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark, Steve Rogers &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Irondad Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. part i - rave at close of day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Art for this fic is by the lovely SpellsOfScarlet (same on AO3 and tumblr). Arabella, I've had such a wonderful time working with you! Thanks for all your help.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Do not go gentle into that good night </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Old age should burn and rave at close of day; </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Rage, rage against the dying of the light. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s nice, flying. Tony likes the way he races past the clouds, separated by only a thin layer of metal and glass. His fingers dance across the controls as he guides his ship through the stratosphere.</p>
<p>“Stark? I’m picking up an issue,” a voice says from the comms. Probably someone at the control tower.</p>
<p>Tony gives a small smile. “No, I’m good. I got this.”</p>
<p>There's a pocket of silence and Tony brings the ship higher.</p>
<p>The comms crackle. “I gotta shut it down.”</p>
<p>Tony narrows his eyes and glares at the console, as if it’s the thing trying to make him plummet almost a mile to the ground below. “Don’t.”</p>
<p>“Shutting down.”</p>
<p>His stomach drops. The clouds get closer to him, he’s falling, he’s-</p>
<p>Tony jolts awake as he hears his bedroom door creak open.</p>
<p>“Dad?”</p>
<p>He closes his eyes again, trying to center himself. Taking a breath, he says softly, “Hey, M. Go back to bed.”</p>
<p>Morgan doesn’t move from the doorframe. “I thought you might be my ghost.”</p>
<p>“There aren’t - ghosts don’t exist.”</p>
<p>She crosses her arms over her chest. “Uncle Steve says there are ghosts. Lots of them.”</p>
<p>“That’s because your uncle’s an old man and about to be a ghost himself.” Tony finally swings his legs out of bed and stands up. “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”</p>
<p>“You were dreaming about the crash, weren’t you?” she asks as he guides her back to her room.</p>
<p>Tony sighs. “Go to sleep, Morgan.”</p>
<p>She stares at him for a second before turning onto her side and closing her eyes. Tony brushes her hair back from her forehead and kisses her temple. “Goodnight. I love you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony steps off the stairs and turns into the kitchen. Sunlight streams in through the window above the sink, highlighting the ever-present dust motes floating in the air. Steve’s standing at the stove, watching the eggs cook. </p>
<p>“Morning, Tony,” Steve says, flipping the eggs.</p>
<p>Tony nods in greeting and looks down at Morgan, who’s turning some pieces of wiring and plastic around in her hands. An open notebook sits next to her elbow, smudged pencil lines scribbled in the pages.</p>
<p>“Is that my lander?” Tony asks, gesturing at the device she’s holding.</p>
<p>She nods. “Can you fix it? It got knocked off my shelf when the books fell.”</p>
<p>Tony takes the lander from her. “When your books fell? What, because of your ghost?”</p>
<p>“It’s a poltergeist. Uncle Steve said so. And I think it’s trying to send a message with the books.”</p>
<p>Tony glances at Steve, who hides his smile by ducking his head.</p>
<p>“That so?” Tony says, slightly amused.</p>
<p>Morgan nods.</p>
<p>“Poltergeists.” Tony pushes himself off the floor and holds out the lander. “I’ll fix this for you while you’re at school.”</p>
<p>“Remember,” Steve says as he slides a plate onto the table, “It’s parent-teacher conferences today.”</p>
<p>“That’s today?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Morgan says. “I told you about it on Friday.”</p>
<p>“Well, in that case,” Tony sets the lander on the table, “finish your breakfast and go get in the truck.”</p>
<p>He walks out onto the porch. Steve follows him, pushing the screen door shut. There’s a dark cloud on the horizon, billowing up into the sky.</p>
<p>“That’s not dust,” Tony says, pointing. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“The Bartons are burning their crops. Their okra got the blight,” Steve says, squinting into the distance.</p>
<p>“I said they should’ve planted corn. Didn’t I say that?” Tony asks, turning to face Steve.</p>
<p>Steve shakes his head. “Not everyone has your prophetic abilities, Tony.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing prophetic about it. Just common sense.”</p>
<p>Morgan pushes the door open, hopping down from the porch and onto the dirt driveway.</p>
<p>“That’s my cue to leave. See ya, old man,” Tony says, following his daughter. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”</p>
<p>“You’re three years older than me, Tony,” Steve calls.</p>
<p>Tony ignores him as he gets into the truck. Morgan’s already sitting in the passenger seat, her backpack sitting on the floor mat underneath her.</p>
<p>“What are your teachers gonna tell me today?” Tony asks.</p>
<p>Morgan shrugs. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>Tony nods. “Guess I’ll have to wait and see, yeah?”</p>
<p>“I guess.”</p>
<p>The tires kick up dust as they bump along the road. Morgan keeps her head turned toward the window, watching as the green corn stalks blur together.</p>
<p>They pull up outside the small school fifteen minutes later. Tony turns off the engine and looks at Morgan.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?”</p>
<p>She makes a face. “I think I have to wait in here.”</p>
<p>Tony blinks. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Because of what my teachers are gonna tell you.”</p>
<p>“I thought you didn’t know.”</p>
<p>Morgan shrugs.</p>
<p>“Okay. Stay here. I’ll be back.”</p>
<p>Toyn gets out of the truck and walks into the building. His shoes squeak against the linoleum as he makes his way to the main office.</p>
<p>Jim Morita sits in his usual spot behind his desk, looking tired despite it being not even nine in the morning. </p>
<p>“Morita,” Tony says.</p>
<p>“Mister Stark,” Morita returns with a tight smile. He gestures toward the chair across from him. “Please, take a seat.”</p>
<p>Tony sits down carefully, jiggling his knee.</p>
<p>“I’ve been told by Morgan’s teacher,” Morita starts, steepling his fingers, “that she’s a wonderful kid. Really smart. Excels in all subjects, but - uh, there’s just… one thing.”</p>
<p>Tony raises an eyebrow.</p>
<p>Morita pulls a drawer open and brings out a book on astronomy. “She brought this in for show-and-tell recently.”</p>
<p>“I don’t…” Tony looks between the book and Morita. “I’m afraid I don’t see the problem here.”</p>
<p>“There’s a section on the lunar landings, as I’m sure you know.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t be much of an astronomy book if there wasn’t.”</p>
<p>“Well, Mister Stark,” Morita shifts in his seat, “there is a reason that we replaced all these old textbooks with newer versions. Ones that talk about how the Apollo missions were fake. A ploy to - to bankrupt the Soviet Union.”</p>
<p>“I-” Tony tilts his head. “Are you telling me that you think the moon landings were fake?”</p>
<p>Morita makes a gesture that’s either supposed to calm himself or calm Tony. “It was a stroke of brilliance. The Soviets put all their resources into rockets and satellites, wasting time and money-”</p>
<p>Tony scoffs. “Wasting time.”</p>
<p>“If we want any chance at saving our entire race, we need to talk about the planet we have, not - not stories of space-”</p>
<p>“Maybe that’s what we need. To leave this planet and all the people who think the <em> Apollo missions </em> were <em> fake-” </em></p>
<p>“Mister Stark,” Morita says in a strained voice. “You can spin those tales all you want in your own home. But please keep it <em> at home. </em>Your daughter’s been fighting her classmates over this topic. It’s not creating an ideal learning environment.”</p>
<p>“An ideal learning-”</p>
<p>“Do you have any ideas for… how we could deal with this together?”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you what,” Tony says, standing. “Morgan’s been liking baseball recently. I think I’ll take her to the game tomorrow. Give her lots of soda and popcorn. How’s that sound?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re suspended,” Tony tells Morgan as he gets back in the truck.</p>
<p>“I’m what?”</p>
<p>He looks over at her, smiling, and hands her the astronomy book. “Got this back for you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thanks!” Morgan flips open the book and traces a finger along the curve of Saturn.</p>
<p>“How do you feel about going to see some baseball tomorrow?” Tony asks, watching her.</p>
<p>She glances up, grinning. “Really? Yes-”</p>
<p>The radio buzzes. “Hey, Tony?”</p>
<p>He frowns. “Steve? What’s the matter?”</p>
<p>“You know the combines you messed with? They’re going crazy.”</p>
<p>“Did you reset the controllers? I’ve told you, you have to-”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know. I did that.” Over the speakers, Steve’s sigh is just a crackle of static. “Would you just get back here?”</p>
<p>“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says. He flips off the radio and looks at Morgan. “Think your ghost’s messing with my equipment now?”</p>
<p>She sniffs haughtily and pulls her notebook out of her backpack. “Could be.”</p>
<p>“Could be, huh?”</p>
<p>Clouds move in from the east as Tony drives home. Even when he’s just pulling into the driveway, Tony can see the tops of the combines gathered around the old farmhouse. Another one comes out of the cornfield as he parks and gets out of the truck, the huge tires flattening the stalks and pushing them into the dry dirt. </p>
<p>Steve’s standing on the porch, hands on his hips. His eyebrows are creased together. At the sound of the truck’s tires crunching on the gravel driveway, he looks up, heaving a sigh.</p>
<p>“They’ve just been pulling out of the fields and heading here,” he says as Tony joins him. “You think something’s up with the navigation?”</p>
<p>“Maybe... something could be messing with the compass,” Tony murmurs. “Like a shift in gravity or magnetism.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t make sense. Gravity doesn’t just change like that.”</p>
<p>“Diseases don’t just kill all our crops, either.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Still, I think the magnetism is more likely-”</p>
<p>“It’s not. If this house was built on magnetic ore,” Tony says, cutting Steve off, “this would’ve happened the first time the equipment got turned on. It didn’t. Something changed.”</p>
<p>Steve crosses his arms. “So how are you going to fix it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t - I’ll figure something out,” Tony says wearily. “It probably has something to do with the compass and GPS systems.”</p>
<p>“Will you need any help with that?”</p>
<p>He shrugs. “I’ll let you know.”</p>
<p>“So, uh,” Steve says, watching Morgan walk slowly to the house, eyes glued on her notebook, “I take it the conference didn’t go well?”</p>
<p>“What gives you that impression?” Tony asks, moving to hold the screen door open for Morgan so she doesn’t bump into it.</p>
<p>“She’d normally be in school right now,” Steve says, jerking his chin toward Morgan. “Is she suspended or expelled?”</p>
<p>Tony waves Steve into the house. “Suspended.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“People don’t believe in the Apollo missions anymore, which is ridiculous. It’s not like they’re the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny.”</p>
<p>Morgan sits down at the kitchen table and starts scribbling in her notebook. Steve watches her for a second, frowning slightly. “No one was there to watch them happen. They might as well be myths.”</p>
<p>“The earth is dying, Steve,” Tony says softly. “And these people just want to stay here and die with it.”</p>
<p>Morgan’s hand stills, her pencil ceasing its scratching. </p>
<p>“Is this a conversation we need to have right now?” Steve murmurs.</p>
<p>“It’s a conversation we all need to have at some point,” Tony says petulantly. “But - no, I guess not right now.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Steve says, nodding. “We can table it for later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony squints at the field and shades his eyes with his hand. Morgan’s sitting next to him, excitedly jiggling her knee. It’s making the bleachers shake a bit, but Tony’s not going to say anything to her. She’s happy, and that’s always a good thing.</p>
<p>“These people can’t play to save their lives,” Steve says, gesturing toward the players with his water bottle.</p>
<p>“What would you know about it?” Tony asks. The player up to bat swings and misses. “This is how people have played for as long as you’ve been alive.”</p>
<p>Steve shrugs. “I’ve seen videos.”</p>
<p>“Okay then,” Tony says. The batter swings again, and this time, there’s a <em> crack </em> as his bat connects with the ball. Morgan cheers.</p>
<p>The player is halfway to first when the speakers stationed at both ends of the bleachers start emitting high-pitched whines. The crowd groans.</p>
<p>Tony looks at the horizon and sees a great cloud of dust rolling toward the ballpark. </p>
<p>“Morguna,” he says, looking down at her. “Get your mask.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t respond immediately, chewing on her lip.</p>
<p>“Morgan,” he says urgently.</p>
<p>“I don’t have it,” she says softly, fear etched into her face.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you have it?” </p>
<p>Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I didn’t think I’d need it.”</p>
<p>It’s disturbing, really, how quickly an afternoon can go from being a fun family outing to Tony cursing and handing his surgical mask over to Morgan. It dwarfs her face, it’s probably too loose, dust could get in from the sides-</p>
<p>“Tony, c’mon,” Steve says, already standing at the end of their row of bleachers. “We might be able to make it back home before the dust hits if we hurry.”</p>
<p>It’s a futile hope, but Tony pulls the neck of his shirt up and over his nose anyway. He grabs Morgan’s hand and drags her along after him. She’s crying, he can tell, because her shoulders are shaking and he can feel the vibrations in his arm. It’s breaking his heart a bit, but he can’t stop and comfort her right now. They’re in a race against the giant dust cloud on the horizon.</p>
<p>Steve’s already sitting in the truck’s driver seat when Tony and Morgan get to the parking lot. Morgan scrambles into the cab and sits on the central console. Her eyes are red, but she doesn’t seem to be having any problems breathing, thank God. </p>
<p>“Let’s go,” he says to Steve as soon as he’s sitting in the passenger seat. “Morgan. Did you leave any windows or doors open at home?”</p>
<p>She pulls the mask down so it’s dangling at her chin. Her lip wobbles. “I might have,” she admits.</p>
<p>Tony slides the mask back up. “Okay. We can clean it up, but you’re sleeping in my room tonight. Steve, faster.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They don’t make it back before the storm hits the town. People standing on the sidewalks run inside for cover. Steve sets the windshield wipers going, but all the purpose that serves is to push the dust around. Gray-brown wind buffets the sides of the truck, sending it swaying from side to side on the road.</p>
<p>Morgan climbs over Tony’s legs and leaps out of the truck as soon as they’re back home. He looks up to the second floor and, sure enough, Morgan’s bedroom window is half-open, and dust is blowing in through the crack.</p>
<p>When he makes it inside, Tony finds her standing stock-still in the middle of her room, staring at the floor. She hasn’t made a move to close the window yet, so Tony makes for it.</p>
<p>“No! Stop,” she says, grabbing his wrist. “You’ll mess it up.”</p>
<p>“Mess what up?” Tony asks exasperatedly.</p>
<p>She points at the ground, where dust has filtered into lines. “The ghost.”</p>
<p>He shakes his head. “I have to close the window.” He walks around the lines and shoves the window shut. “Get your pillow and shake it out. Put it in my room.”</p>
<p>“The ghost is talking to me!” she pleads. “With Morse Code.”</p>
<p>Tony steps away from the lines to see them all at once. The realization comes to him so quickly that it’s like being hit with a truck. “It’s not a ghost, and it’s not Morse,” he says slowly. “It’s the gravity. And this - get your notebook, Morguna.”</p>
<p>She grabs it from her desk and shakes the dust off of it.</p>
<p>“This is binary,” he says. “Like the ones and-”</p>
<p>“I know what binary is,” she says.</p>
<p>Tony smiles. “Of course you do. This says - let’s see, if the thick is one, then that’s thirty-three…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tony, I’m going into town to see if everyone’s okay,” Steve says, popping his head into Morgan’s room half an hour later. Tony and Morgan are sitting on the dust-covered comforter on Morgan’s bed, looking between the notebook and the lines of dust.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Tony says.</p>
<p>Steve points at the dust still on the floor. “You gonna clean that up?”</p>
<p>“We will,” Morgan says. “We’re still figuring out what it means.”</p>
<p>“Coordinates,” Tony reminds her.</p>
<p>She scrunches up her nose. “We don’t <em> know </em>that.”</p>
<p>“Okay, well. I’ll be back in a few hours,” Steve says. He retreats from the doorway, and Tony hears his car door shutting a few moments later.</p>
<p>“They’re coordinates,” Tony says. “I’m going to go see what’s there.”</p>
<p>Morgan jumps up from the bed. “Okay! I’ll get us some snacks for the dri-”</p>
<p>“You’re not coming,” Tony says firmly. “I don’t know what’s going to be there, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know that it’ll be dangerous!”</p>
<p>He shakes his head. “I don’t know that it <em> won’t </em> be dangerous. You’re not coming.”</p>
<p>“You would never have figured this out if it wasn’t for me!”</p>
<p>Tony slides off the bed and crouches in front of her. “And you’ve been such a good help. We need your mind, Morgan. And if you get hurt coming with me and can’t share any more of your good ideas…” <em> I don’t know how I’d live with that, </em>he finishes silently.</p>
<p>She pouts.</p>
<p>“Uncle Steve’ll be back in a little bit, okay? Tell him I’ll call him.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” she grumbles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony should’ve known that Morgan wouldn’t stand for being left at home, but he’s still surprised when, ten miles away from his destination, she pops out of the pile of blankets he keeps on the backseat of the truck. </p>
<p>“What are you doing here?” he hisses as she climbs into the passenger seat.</p>
<p>“It’s too late for you to turn around now,” she says.</p>
<p>“It is <em> not </em> too late for me to turn around.”</p>
<p>She sniffs. “You knew I’d sneak into the truck. You’re just pretending to be mad at me right now because you’re stubborn, like Uncle Steve always says.”</p>
<p>“There are a couple things I could say about Uncle Steve myself,” Tony grumbles, but she’s right. “Alright. We’re getting close. If we see anyone there at all, you do not talk, okay?”</p>
<p>“Okay!” she chirps happily.</p>
<p>The road dead-ends in front of a tall chain-link fence with barbed wire at the top. There’s a <em> No Trespassing </em>sign attached to it that Tony immediately decides to ignore.</p>
<p>“I saw some wire cutters when I was in the backseat,” Morgan says.</p>
<p>“You mean when you were hiding from me,” Tony says, but holds out his hand for the cutters all the same.</p>
<p>Tony hasn’t even snipped the first piece of wire when he gets an eyeful of flashlight. He stumbles back, blinking away the afterimage, and drops the wire cutters.</p>
<p>“Stay in the truck!” he calls to Morgan.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” says a voice from behind the gate. </p>
<p>Tony scrunches up his face and opens his eyes again. There’s a man standing at the fence, holding an industrial-grade flashlight. There’s a rifle looped around his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Uh - Tony Stark,” he says. “My daughter’s in the truck, don’t shoot-”</p>
<p>The gate slides open without further argument. Tony gapes.</p>
<p>The guard brings the flashlight down on the top of Tony’s head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he wakes up, Tony’s sitting in a hard plastic chair. His neck is bent at an uncomfortable angle, and his head aches dully. He blinks his eyes open and glances around. There are metal shelves surrounding him with file boxes and equipment sitting on them. The room is chilly and dark, like he’s in a basement.</p>
<p>“How did you find the coordinates to get here?” someone asks.</p>
<p>Tony sits up straighter. There’s a robot in front of him, one of those ugly, brick-like things with a screen on the chest. The robot rolls forward on its blocky legs and repeats in an impassive voice, “How did you get here?”</p>
<p>“Where’s my daughter?” Tony asks. “Morgan Stark, about four feet tall-”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I cannot give you that information right now,” the robot says. There’s no regret in its voice, and Tony scoffs. “I need to know how you came across the coordinates for this facility.”</p>
<p>“And I need to know where you put my daughter,” Tony says, “so we’re at a crossroads here.”</p>
<p>“That information-”</p>
<p>“Vision, it’s okay,” someone else says. </p>
<p>Tony twists his neck to see a woman emerging from between the metal shelves. Her lips are curved in a kind of half-smile.</p>
<p>“Love the hospitality here,” Tony says to her. “I’ve been very happy. Five out of five stars.”</p>
<p>“We’re glad you approve,” the woman responds.</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay, listen, Miss…”</p>
<p>She holds out a hand for him to shake. “Natasha Romanoff.”</p>
<p>He returns the handshake warily. “Look, Miss Romanoff-”</p>
<p>“Doctor,” she says, still smiling. “Doctor Romanoff.”</p>
<p>“Okay then. Doctor Romanoff. I don’t know what you’ve done with my daughter, but I’d be ever so grateful if you could point me her way so we can get out of your hair.”</p>
<p>“Of course. She’s in the conference room.” She glances at the robot. “Vision, you’re no longer needed here. You can return to your regular duties.”</p>
<p>“With pleasure,” the robot says. It makes its way out of the room.</p>
<p>“Your daughter’s fine,” Natasha tells Tony, beckoning for him to follow her. “Very bright, too. Must come from her mother.”</p>
<p>Tony decides to let the insult slide. “Look, I get that you must not want any visitors, and, honestly, I’m fine with leaving, so just show us to the exit, and we’ll be on our way.”</p>
<p>Natasha keeps walking down the hallway. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy,” she says. She stops in front of a door and gestures for Tony to go in. </p>
<p>He pushes it open. There’s a long table surrounded by chairs, and at the head is-</p>
<p>“Dad!” Morgan says, jumping up and running over to him. </p>
<p>“Hey, Morguna,” he murmurs. “What’ve you been up to?”</p>
<p>She opens her mouth to respond and is immediately interrupted.</p>
<p>“Mister Stark,” says a familiar voice, cutting off anything Morgan was gearing up to say.</p>
<p>Tony looks up wearily. “Fury.”</p>
<p>Nick Fury grins. “It’s nice to see you, Stark.”</p>
<p>“Don’t know that I can say the same.” Tony shrugs. “But to what do I owe the pleasure?”</p>
<p>Fury gestures at the empty seats. “Please, sit. We’ve got a lot to discuss. Like how you found this facility in the first place.”</p>
<p>“We just… found it,” Tony says, sitting. Morgan crawls into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.</p>
<p>“No one just <em> finds </em>us,” Fury says. “You got the coordinates somewhere. They were marked on that map of yours in the truck. What I need to know is how you stumbled across the best-kept secret this world has to offer.”</p>
<p>Tony sighs. The baseball game seems like it was days ago, rather than hours. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Can we go home now?”</p>
<p>“Stark, we need you to work with us.”</p>
<p>Tony sighs. “It’s hard to explain. It was an anomaly with the gravity and the dust storm that blew by earlier today-”</p>
<p>“Gravity?” Natasha asks, speaking for the first time since entering the room.</p>
<p>“That’s what I said.”</p>
<p>“What kind of gravitational… anomaly?”</p>
<p>Tony has information they need, he realizes. He has the bargaining power here, not them. They might have him locked up in this facility, but they’re desperate, and he can use that against them. “I think this conversation is absolutely riveting, but I’m not telling you anything until you tell me that you’re letting us go. Alive,” he says, meeting Fury’s eye.</p>
<p>Fury barks out a laugh. “We’re not some band of lowlife criminals,” he says. “Do you know where you are, Stark?’</p>
<p>Tony considers saying something snarky, but he’s far too tired for that. “No idea.”</p>
<p>“This is SHIELD,” Fury says.</p>
<p>“SHIELD,” Tony echoes.</p>
<p>“The one and only. The same SHIELD you flew for, back in the day.”</p>
<p>Morgan shifts sleepily in Tony’s lap. He runs his hand along her back. “It was my understanding that this operation was shut down a while back because you told the government you wouldn’t drop bombs onto all the starving people.”</p>
<p>“Mass genocide isn’t a long-term solution,” Fury says. “The government decided they needed us back. It just wasn’t announced because public opinion is that space exploration is a waste of time and resources.” Fury pauses, considering Tony. “Come walk with me. You can leave your daughter with Doctor Romanoff. She’ll be in good hands.”</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Tony stands up, depositing Morgan in another empty chair. Natasha smiles at him reassuringly as he follows Fury back into the hallway.</p>
<p>“The blight’s struck the wheat and okra so far,” Fury says, leading Tony through the maze that is the SHIELD facility. “The former seven years ago, the latter this year. But you’re a farmer. You know all about that.”</p>
<p>Tony nods stiffly.</p>
<p>Fury opens a door that leads into a large, humid room. Clear plastic covers are draped over plots of various crops - corn, okra, wheat, beans. There’s a scientist kneeling next to the okra, the knees of his pants stained with soil. He marks something down on a clipboard and touches the okra’s wilting leaves.</p>
<p>“Corn’s all we have left,” Fury continues. “But soon, that’ll be gone too. Our atmosphere is eighty percent nitrogen. Do you know what breathes nitrogen?”</p>
<p>“Blight,” Tony says, looking at one of the plots of corn. The husks are brown and shrivelled.</p>
<p>“Exactly. It’s thriving. And the more nitrogen it breathes, the more of our crops it infects, the less oxygen we have to breathe. If we don’t starve, we’ll suffocate. Your daughter’s generation is set to be the last on Earth.”</p>
<p>“We’ve always found a way in the past,” Tony says. “What makes you think this time is any different?”</p>
<p>“It’s not,” Fury says. He walks to another door at the back of the room. “We have a plan. That plan just doesn’t end up with us staying on a dying planet.” Fury opens the door.</p>
<p>It’s been years since Tony’s seen so much as a plane in the sky, let alone been in close proximity with one. But this - planes can’t hold a candle to this. Tony stares at the ship sitting in the middle of the warehouse and feels an instinctive need to fly it, to see what the controls feel like under his hands.</p>
<p>“Impressive, isn’t it?” Fury says. “Milano. It’s the last piece needed to complete the Benatar for our Avenger missions.”</p>
<p>“Avenger?” Tony asks absently, watching workers climb around the ship, tinkering with it.</p>
<p>“The earth is a dying thing. We thought it fitting that the crew of the mission might be setting out to… avenge their planet.”</p>
<p>Tony ignores the implications of that. “Where have you been sending these missions? Nothing in our solar system can support life besides Earth. The closest system’s gotta be thousands of years-”</p>
<p>“I can’t give you any more information at this point,” Fury interrupts. “Not until you tell me that you will pilot this for us.”</p>
<p>Tony’s brain stops for a second. “You want me to pilot this for you.”</p>
<p>“You were the best pilot we’d ever seen.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never been to space. I’ve barely gone beyond the stratosphere, and you’re asking me to travel lightyears away from Earth to find a new planet for us to live on?”</p>
<p>“The team we have now hasn’t gone beyond the simulator,” Fury says smugly.</p>
<p>Tony bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. “How long would the mission take?”</p>
<p>Fury leans against the wall. “There’s no way to tell, but we’re fully prepared for it to last years.”</p>
<p>“I have a daughter, Fury.”</p>
<p>“And this could save her,” he says, pointing to the Milano. “You were chosen to pilot this craft, Stark.”</p>
<p>“By you.”</p>
<p>“No,” Fury says firmly. “By the same creatures that sent you that gravitational anomaly with our coordinates.”</p>
<p>“The same-” Tony takes a breath. “What kind of creatures?”</p>
<p>“We don’t know who or what they are. All we know is that we’ve been having these occurrences - these disturbances in gravitational pull - for fifty years, mostly in the upper layers of the atmosphere. Nothing big - just miniscule adjustments on our instruments. You’d probably be familiar with that, wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>“My crash,” Tony murmurs. “There was some kind of blip in my controls.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. And,” Fury presses on, “there have been other anomalies. We’ve found a disturbance of space-time near Saturn.”</p>
<p>“A wormhole,” Tony says, unimpressed. “You expect me to believe a <em> wormhole- </em>”</p>
<p>“It’s been there for forty-eight years, and something - or some<em> one </em> - put it there to take us to another galaxy. A galaxy with twelve promising planets, according to our probes.”</p>
<p>“You sent probes into a wormhole?”</p>
<p>“We sent people into a wormhole, ten years ago. The Avenger missions, led by Doctor Beck. Twelve planets, twelve people to make observations on the worlds. If they found something habitable, they were able to send us a signal and put themselves in hibernation. One of the systems we explored has shown promise.”</p>
<p>“Just one?” Tony asks, closing his eyes and trying to imagine going through a wormhole.</p>
<p>“It has three planets in it.”</p>
<p>“Still,” Tony says. “It’s a bit improbable.”</p>
<p>“We have a backup plan,” Fury says, lifting an eyebrow. “Plan A - that’s the one where you go out there and find us a new home. And then this facility lifts off the ground and comes to join you.”</p>
<p>It’s ridiculous. Tony wants to laugh, but each passing minute is making his head pound more and more. “You can’t send this facility into space. You’ll never get it off the ground.”</p>
<p>“We will with the help of the gravitational anomalies. We’re still working on the equation to use them to our advantage, but we should have it figured out by the time you find us a planet.”</p>
<p>It doesn’t seem like a viable solution to Tony, but he presses on. “And what’s Plan B?”</p>
<p>“Five thousand fertilized eggs on board the Milano.”</p>
<p>Tony looks over his shoulder at the ship. “So we’d be saving the human race, just not… <em> our </em> human race.”</p>
<p>“Only if Plan A doesn’t work. And it will.”</p>
<p>Tony stares at Fury. Fury stares right back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re leaving,” Morgan says as they make their way back home. It’s not a question.</p>
<p>“I’d come back.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t respond.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So are you going to do this?” Steve asks, sitting on the porch steps next to Tony. His face is illuminated only by the pale moonlight.</p>
<p>Tony tilts his head back and forth. “Haven’t decided yet.”</p>
<p>Steve looks at him for a quiet moment. “I think you have.”</p>
<p>“The world’s dying, Steve,” Tony says softly. “You look at the Bartons and you see them burning their okra and you think - maybe next year, it’ll be better. Maybe next year you won’t have to live in fear because you never know when the blight’s gonna get your corn. But next year’s not coming. This is as good as it’ll be. It’s all going to go downhill from here, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. We’ve needed to leave for a while now. Earth was screaming it at us, but we were all too deaf to hear her. So - if this is something I can do to help, then I think I should do it.”</p>
<p>Steve tilts his head back to gaze at the stars. “We’ll be okay on our own,” he says. “I’ll take care of Morgan. But you have to make her understand that you’re not leaving because of her, okay? You’re leaving for her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Morguna,” Tony says, leaning against the doorframe to Morgan’s room. “How’s it going?”</p>
<p>She doesn’t look up from where she’s sitting on the bed, staring at her astronomy book.</p>
<p>“Do you know what your mom used to say to me?” Tony asks, sitting down next to Morgan. “After she had you, after she got sick, she told me that parents are only meant to be memories for their kids. And I thought that she couldn’t possibly be right.”</p>
<p>“Mom was always right,” Morgan says. “That’s what you told me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Morgan’s hair back. “And she was right this time, too, because I - I have to be your memory. Your ghost.”</p>
<p>“You said ghosts don’t exist.” Morgan finally looks up at him, her bottom lip quivering.</p>
<p>He nods. “I know. I know I did. But I can’t be your ghost right now because they need me to go up there and find us a new home.”</p>
<p>She sniffs, tears brewing in her eyes.</p>
<p>“You helped me figure out where to find them, remember that?” he asks as the first tear spills over.</p>
<p>“So it’s my fault if you don’t come back,” she says.</p>
<p>“No. No, it’s not. It’s not your fault if I don’t come back. And guess what? I will come back. I’ll come back to you.”</p>
<p>Morgan picks up her notebook and shows him the page with the scribbled pencil lines. Dots and dashes. He looks at the bookshelf on the wall of her room, the blank spaces where the books have fallen out.</p>
<p>“I figured out what the ghost is saying,” she says desperately. “It says <em> stay, </em> Dad.”</p>
<p>Tony sucks in a breath. “I can’t.”</p>
<p>“It says <em> stay! </em>”</p>
<p>“I know, Morgan, but I can’t, I’m sorry. I can promise you that I’m going to come back, though. I will.”</p>
<p>She lets out a sob. “When? When are you coming back? Tell me when you’re coming back!”</p>
<p>“I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t know. I can’t tell you, but I’m coming back, I promise.”</p>
<p>Morgan throws her notebook across the room. “Stay!”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Morgan.”</p>
<p>She won’t look at him.</p>
<p>“I won’t ever stop thinking about you. When I’m leaving the atmosphere or when I’m in hypersleep or when I’m on a new planet, all I’m going to be thinking about is you. I promise you.” He reaches out for her hand, but she snatches it away. “When I get back, we might be the same age because time moves differently up there. Isn’t that crazy?”</p>
<p>“You’re not going to come back,” she says.</p>
<p>“I am,” he insists. “I’m going to come back. I love you, that’s why. I love you, Morgan.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t say anything.</p>
<p>“Don’t make me leave like this,” he murmurs. “Morgan. I love you tons. I’m going to come back to you. I promise.”</p>
<p>The worst part is, he knows that’s a promise he can’t keep. He knows it could very well be a lie. But he says it anyway, and he already feels the chains of regret, because it’s all too possible it’s the last thing he’ll say to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Though wise men at their end know dark is right, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Because their words had forked no lightning they </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Do not go gentle into that good night. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. part ii - sang the sun in flight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Peter's in this chapter, babey!!</p>
<p>As always, thanks to Arabella for the lovely art &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It echoes in Tony’s head as he says his goodbyes to Steve. It bounces around, cementing itself into every nook and cranny as he drives to the SHIELD facility. It whispers its single syllable into his ear as Fury leads him to meet the team he’ll be flying with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You already know Romanoff and Vision,” Fury says, holding his hands behind his back. “This is the rest of your team. Stark, meet Bruce Banner and Peter Parker. Banner, Parker, this is Stark. He’ll be your pilot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Bruce says, nodding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” says Peter, holding out his hand. Tony shakes it. “You’re the best pilot SHIELD’s ever had. It’s - it’s amazing that you’re directing this mission, Mister Stark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know we were letting children into spaceships now,” Tony says to Fury.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With all due respect, sir,” Peter butts in, “I’m twenty-three.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fury rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s still a child,” Tony says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now that you’ve met everyone,” Fury says, raising his voice, “I want you all to suit up. Liftoff in three hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay!</span>
  </em>
  <span> says Morgan’s voice as Tony shrugs on the light-weight spacesuit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay!</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he climbs aboard the Milano.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay!</span>
  </em>
  <span> while he goes through the pre-flight checklist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay! </span>
  </em>
  <span>when there’s a little voice in his ear, counting down from ten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have liftoff,” Natasha says. “Approaching Mach One.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone okay?” Bruce asks, gripping his seatbelt with white-knuckled fists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A chorus of </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>es and </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>s echo throughout the cabin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stage one separation,” Vision says. There’s a dull </span>
  <em>
    <span>whumph.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Preparing for stage two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long until we’re out of the atmosphere?” Peter asks, craning his neck to see the window around Tony’s seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna be a little bit, kid. I thought you ran simulations for this?” Tony says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simulations are completely different from the real thing. And I’m not a kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stage two separation,” Vision informs them. “All the feeds are going manual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Tony says, placing his hands over the controls. A thrill of anticipation runs up his spine.“Roger that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Handing over the controls,” Vision says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony relishes flying again, even if only for a little bit, even if he only does relatively menial things for the time being. It’s exactly as he remembers it. It’s glorious. It’s like coming home after a long trip. It’s - a distraction, if he’s being honest, from the fact that he’s leaving Earth for God knows how long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re three minutes out from the Endurance,” Peter says from behind him some time later. Tony blinks himself out of his reverie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Thanks, kid. Banner? You want to take this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce looks at him wearily. “I suppose so.” He presses a couple buttons, calculates a few angles. “We’re locked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Helmets on, guys,” Natasha says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got this, Banner,” Tony says, watching the Endurance loom before them, spinning in the inky blackness of space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The door’s not charging,” Bruce says after a moment. “Tony? You want that control back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ I guess.” He flicks a switch. “Initiating spin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re at thirty percent of our needed RPM,” Vision says. “One G.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony grins. “Yeah, how’s the gravity treating you guys?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh,” Peter says. “Could be worse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could be better,” Bruce says. “Do we have Dramamine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody answers him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sixty percent,” Vision tells them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fury’s voice crackles in over the comms. “We’re going to lose direct communication like this in a second. Thought I’d say goodbye. It’s going to be two years to Saturn. You’ll be in hypersleep for most of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony starts a running list in his head. Two years. That’s all. Just two years so far. By the time they’re at Saturn, Morgan’s only going to be ten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fury,” Tony says. “Make sure nothing bad happens to my family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fury doesn’t say anything for a minute. “I’ll do my best, Stark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve reached one hundred percent of our needed RPM,” says Vision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony sits up straighter. “Locking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll see you when you get back,” Fury says. “We’ll be older. But we’ll still be here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye, Fury,” Natasha says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lock into the Endurance. Tony opens the door between the two ships. He casts a long look at the spinning blue planet below him through the window. He wishes he could know exactly where Morgan is and what she’s doing. He wishes he were able to know when he’d next be on Earth. He wishes, but he’s ready. He stands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need some of this?” Tony asks, holding out the bottle of Dramamine to Peter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid shakes his head. “I don’t get motion sickness that easily.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easily?” Tony says, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know how fast we were spinning back there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter gives a half-smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m fine, though. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your funeral,” Tony says, taking one of the pills himself. “So, uh - what’re you leaving behind? Or who, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My aunt, May,” Peter says. “She raised me after my parents died. And my girlfriend, Michelle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d they react when they found out you were coming up here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um - May told me that she was glad I was doing something that I felt would fulfill a purpose, but she would be sad to see me go, since she probably won’t, uh, be around when we get back. And Michelle… she wasn’t happy, but I had to come. I had to help, y’know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony feels a lump in his throat that has nothing to do with the Dramamine he dry-swallowed. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’re you leaving behind?” Peter asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My brother, Steve. And my daughter, Morgan. She’s eight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have a, uh, wife? Morgan’s mom?” Peter’s eyes dip down to the wedding band Tony still wears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pepper had a tumor in her brain,” Tony says shortly. “Died five years ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter’s eyes turn sad, and Tony has to look away because they remind him of Morgan’s face the last time he saw her. “I’m sorry. That’s - it must’ve been awful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was, for a bit,” Tony says, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is he just going to tell this kid he met mere hours ago everything about his life? “It got better. Easier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still,” Peter says. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shrugs. “It is what it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re silent for a few moments before Peter says, “Do you think we’ll really find something like Earth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tony says. Peter blanches. “I mean, we won’t find something exactly like Earth. We won’t even find something close to it. But we’ll find something that works. Something that we can live on, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t sound overly optimistic,” Peter says skeptically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re scientists, not optimists. You want optimism, you can go back to Earth and live with all the deluded people that think we can still save a dying planet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter still looks doubtful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know the plan?” Tony asks him, hoping to banish the etches of disappointment in Peter’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh - kinda, but not all the details.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony picks up a tablet and pulls up a map of the system they’re heading toward. “First up is Wanda Maximoff’s planet. She was the one to start SHIELD’s biology program.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know a lot about these planets, but we’re pretty sure Maximoff’s has a lot of flat land. Next there's James Rhodes’ planet. He’s a particle physicist. We were friends, back when I still worked at SHIELD. Good guy. And that planet looks promising, so. And then, uh - Beck’s planet. Beck is supposedly the epitome of what SHIELD’s supposed to be. Got eleven people to follow him through a wormhole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have three people and a robot. We’re gonna follow you through a wormhole,” Peter points out, and he sounds so genuine that Tony’s caught off guard for a second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” he says. “It’s more like you guys got me to follow. I wasn’t on this team a week ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re leading us now,” Peter reminds him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay. Whatever you want to think, kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So to get to the system,” Tony says, reeling the conversation back in, “We’re gonna get to Mars, which will take eight months. And then we’ll use counter-orbital momentum to push ourselves to Saturn, and that’ll take fourteen months. We’ll be asleep for all of that, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid swallows. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and-” Tony says, remembering something else. “Maximoff and Beck are orbiting around a black hole. Titan, it's called.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crazy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter laughs. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, are you gonna send a message back for your aunt and your girl? There’s no guarantee it’ll transmit once we’re to Saturn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I - I might. Probably, yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony nods. “I would, if I were you. Might make you sleep a little easier. In fact,” he glances behind him at the control room, “I’m gonna go record my own little adios right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Peter says, nodding too. “Okay. See you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good chat, kid,” Tony says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Peter sits in the dining area and - doesn’t panic, exactly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, he does, because he’s in </span>
  <em>
    <span>space, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>spaceship </span>
  </em>
  <span>headed to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wormhole </span>
  </em>
  <span>to find a replacement planet for Earth. When he signed up to work for SHIELD, he’d figured he’d work on the blight problem. Solve a few equations, make new fertilizer, that kind of thing. Instead, he’d somehow ended up here. On a </span>
  <em>
    <span>spaceship. </span>
  </em>
  <span>With </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tony Stark.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Tony Stark. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tony Stark, the best pilot SHIELD’s ever seen, the one they tell you about when you’re going through all those flying sims. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Train hard, and maybe someday you’ll be as good as he was.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But for all the stories, all the mission reports and video logs he’s seen throughout the years, nothing could’ve truly prepared Peter for actually meeting Tony. The man is… different, somehow, than what Peter expected. Normally, people like that - people who carried the world on their shoulders, who breached frontiers no one else had </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked </span>
  </em>
  <span>at before - knew they were the best and acted like it. Tony, though. Tony’s not like that. At least, not from what Peter’s seen so far. Because hadn’t he gone out of his way to make sure Peter was coping? Hadn’t he made sure Peter knew everything that was going on? Hadn’t he-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter sighs and rubs at his forehead. The truth is, as amazing as the entire experience has been so far, the reality of it all is just now starting to hit him. There’s no going back now. Everything - every</span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>- he knows and loves on Earth is gonna be old or dead by the time he gets back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he gets back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because there’s always a chance something could go wrong, right? An asteroid could hit the ship, or the cryo pods could fail, or the wormhole could tear them apart, piece by piece. He was prepared for those events, told what to do should they happen, but that’s completely different from the threat pressing in around him at every moment. He feels so utterly unprepared for this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Morguna. Steve.” Tony’s sitting in the control room’s chair, watching himself talk on the screen. “I hope everything’s going okay on Earth. It looks - it’s beautiful from all the way up here. I can almost see our house.” He takes a breath. “We’ve got, uh - twenty-two months to Saturn. I’m gonna be asleep for all of that. Bedding down in just a couple hours, in fact, so I thought I’d send you guys this message. Uh - I love you. I’m still thinking about you, all the way up here in space. I’ll send you another message when I wake up, okay? Bye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitates, the cursor hovering over the </span>
  <em>
    <span>send </span>
  </em>
  <span>button. Is it enough? Can he convey everything he wants to say in a few short sentences?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how to make it better. He hits </span>
  <em>
    <span>send.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You doing okay?” Bruce asks, swabbing Peter’s arm with an antiseptic wipe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter shrugs with one shoulder. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s sitting in a chair next to the cryo pod that he’ll sleep in for two years. Bruce crouches in front of him, preparing a syringe with a clear-colored liquid. Behind them, Natasha’s already asleep, a monitor softly beeping in time with her heartbeat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is just going to slow your heart rate,” Bruce says, lifting the syringe. “You’ll get a little sleepy. Let me know if your chest starts to feel tight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter takes a breath and feels the needle pierce his skin. He stares at the wall as Bruce’s thumb brushes his arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” the other man says, setting the empty syringe down next to him. “Lay down in the pod and try to fall asleep. Don’t fight the drug.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Peter clambers into the cryo chamber and tries to relax. Tries not to think about how he’ll be asleep for two years. Two years. It’s not that long, but - isn’t it? Isn’t it two years of his life, of everyone’s lives, gone in the blink of an eye?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax, Peter,” Bruce says, a chuckle hidden somewhere in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter closes his eyes. He can feel his limbs being weighed down, leadened by the drug. He imagines the stars hurtling past him, the cold dark of space around him. He lets himself drift off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Peter dreams as he sleeps. He’s in the cockpit of the ship, and MJ’s there, sitting in the pilot’s seat, staring out at the vast expanse of stars surrounding them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, sitting down next to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t look at him, but she does push her chair so it rotates to face him. He sees her in profile now, lit under the pale fluorescent lights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he tries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>MJ bites her lip and takes a shaky breath. Peter reaches out and tentatively brushes the back of her hand. He expects her to pull away, but she doesn’t. She turns her hand over and lets him tangle their fingers together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get why you’re doing this,” she says. “It’s to save everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> She turns her head slightly, tilts it toward him. “But it has to be you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s not me, it’s someone else,” he says softly. “And you know I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-can’t let anything bad happen to anyone else when it could be you instead.” MJ smiles a bit sadly. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair away from her face. “I miss you already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I miss you too,” she says, her breath hitching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll come back as soon as I can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But they both know it’s not going to be fast. He’ll come back to her in decades, centuries if something goes wrong. It won’t be the same, no matter what happens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” he says desperately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t respond. The ship around them melts away, fades into black, and Peter wakes up with cold tears on his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tony expects to feel a difference in himself when he wakes up. He expects to feel older, stiffer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>something, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he doesn’t. He feels like he was barely asleep at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except he was. He slept for two years while they flew through space, and now, when he walks into the cabin, the edge of Saturn is visible through the window. It’s unfathomably large, with its rings that reach out into space. It makes Tony feel small and insignificant just to look at it, and he’s hundreds of miles away from the surface.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>According to the display on the control panel, they have about thirty hours until they reach the wormhole. Tony wonders if he’ll be able to see it from a distance. If he’ll be able to tell just by looking at it that it’s a disturbance of space-time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mister Stark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony turns away from the vista through the window and sees Vision looming in the entrance to the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Tony says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The screen on the robot’s chest blinks with code. “During your cryo sleep, you received several transmissions from Earth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony feels a stupid spark of hope flare to life inside him. “From my family?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Vision says. “You can access these recordings in the control room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Tony stares at Vision for a second. “Thanks for letting me know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s why I’m here. Part of it, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony nods. “Right, yeah, uh - control room, you said?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a short walk to the control room, but it feels like it takes as much time as the journey from Mars to Saturn. He can hear his pulse in his ears, is surprised the sound isn’t sending everyone else on the ship flocking to him. Because - Morgan. He’s gone over their parting conversation a thousand times in his head, thought about what he could’ve said, what he could’ve done differently. But maybe, maybe, if she’s sent him a message, it’ll all be okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The screen lights up when he sits down in front of it. There’s a light blinking in the corner, and he clicks on it, barely breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s face pops up on the screen. “Hey, Tony,” he says. “Uh - I hope everything’s going well for you up there. You’ve been gone for about a week, so I’m guessing you’re asleep already. I asked Morgan if she wanted to say hi, but…” He does his sad puppy eyes and Tony feels his stomach drop. “I think she still needs time. I’ll try to convince her in a little bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony sinks into the chair and watches Steve talk about how the corn’s doing, and how Morgan’s suspension from school has ended, and that the books have stopped falling from her shelves. When the recording finishes, the next one automatically starts playing. And the next one. And the next. Two years of messages from Earth, and Morgan’s not in a single one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they’re all over, Tony sits for a long while. He sits and thinks and breathes through the tightness in his chest, the absence Morgan leaves there. It’s been days for him, but it’s been two years for her, and she hasn’t forgiven him yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders if she ever will.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Peter walks into the dining area, everyone else is already gathered. Natasha sits at one of the tables, her knees pulled into her chest. Bruce leans against the wall and taps a pen against his chin. The hulking, monolithic figure of Vision rests in the corner, beeping quietly. And Tony - Tony’s draped on a chair, legs crossed, one arm thrown over his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter catches Natasha’s gaze and points at Tony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he okay? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he mouths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce clears his throat. “Tony?” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony heaves a sigh and drops his arm from his eyes. “Everyone here?” he asks. “Yeah? Okay. We need to go back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha whips her head around to stare at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter blinks. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we doing out here?” Tony says. “Do any of us actually know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re looking for a different planet for everyone to live on,” says Bruce slowly. “Tony, are you okay-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony stands abruptly. “I’m okay,” he says. “Perfectly fine. But I don’t know that any of you are. We’re looking for a different planet? And for what? We’re out here, about to travel to a different </span>
  <em>
    <span>galaxy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the off-chance that there’s something liveable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve been getting transmissions that are promising-” Peter starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re basing all of this on transmissions?” Tony asks, looking directly at Peter. “We’re gambling our lives on </span>
  <em>
    <span>transmissions? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even if something does come out of this, how can we be sure SHIELD is gonna figure out the gravity formula? We’re not saving anyone by coming out here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony,” Natasha says, rising halfway from her chair. “I get it, this is difficult-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Difficult?” Tony barks out a laugh. “This isn’t difficult. This is impossible. It’s a - a million to one chance that we find what we’re looking for. We’re wasting our time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter examines the other man’s face and sees an ache there. A hurt that wasn’t present when they last spoke. It’s the same ache in his own chest, that realization that things aren’t going to go back to normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can’t go back,” Bruce says, crossing his arms. “This project has taken so many resources, it would be a waste-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony throws out his arms. “That’s what I’m saying. The whole thing is a waste of resources. We’re never gonna be able to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mister Stark,” Peter says. “I think - I think Doctor Banner’s right. We’ve come this far already. Turning back would be a waste of all the work that’s been put into this. If we keep going, there’s always a chance we could find something worthwhile.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony stares at him, glaring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s right,” Natasha says. “Tony, we’re all leaving people behind. You knew the consequences when you signed up to lead this mission.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consequences,” Tony echoes hollowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce leans back against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I may,” Vision says from the corner, speaking for the first time. “There may be a way to reduce our total mission time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony’s head snaps up. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The giant robot moves forward. “Rather than immediately visiting Quentin Beck’s planet, we could visit Wanda Maximoff’s planet. By parking the ship in orbit around the Maximoff world, we would be conserving both time and fuel. Additionally, this planet showed more promise in our initial scans than the Beck planet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The possibility makes Peter’s breath catch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much time would we be saving?” Tony asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s hard to calculate the exact amount of time. As this planet is quite close to the black hole inhabiting the system, the time dilation will be quite severe. One hour spent on the surface of the planet could be equivalent to seven years on Earth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony sucks in a breath through his teeth. Peter looks between him and Vision, biting the inside of his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s worth a shot,” Natasha says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce nods. Tony turns to look at Peter and raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, uh - yeah,” Peter says eloquently. “If it’s actually going to save time, then - yeah, it’s a good idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “I guess we’ll do that, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonderful,” says Vision. “I’ll go update our route, shall I?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As it turns out, Tony can see the wormhole. It’s hard to miss, actually; a giant hole floating in space, ringed with blue. The inside is spattered with distant lights and more empty space. It dwarfs the Benatar as it drifts ever toward this rift in time and space, making Tony’s previous glimpse of Saturn seem small in comparison.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone sits in the cabin, looking through the window with rapt attention. Tony glances at Peter and sees him standing with his nose practically pressed against the glass. His eyes are wide and wondrous, full of the kind of innocence that fades away with age. Tony wonders if this is what Morgan would look like, staring out at the vast possibilities of the universe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will it… feel weird?” Peter asks, not looking away from the vista. “I mean. It’s subverting all the laws of physics, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be able to feel much of a difference when we’re inside,” Bruce says. “It’s less like bending the laws of physics and more like bending space around physics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That makes Peter turn around and frown at Bruce. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s like this,” Bruce says, pulling a wrinkled sheet of paper and a pen from his pocket. “Normally, to get from one side of space to the other, you’d have to travel this whole distance.” He demonstrates by drawing a line from one end of the paper to the opposite end. “But a wormhole folds space in half,” he folds the paper in on itself, “and travels through like that.” He stabs the pen through the folded paper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s…” Peter starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A violent way to express it,” Natasha says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce sighs and tucks the paper and pen back into his pocket. “We won’t be… stabbing through space. It’s more like taking the opportunity that presents itself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shakes his head and turns his attention back to the non-paper wormhole out the window. It’s gotten closer, looming ever-larger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much longer, Vision?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Estimated time of arrival to the wormhole threshold is four and a half minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not long,” Peter murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Tony agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the journey to the wormhole is silent, everyone lost in thought. The only sound is the rustling of fabric, the quiet hum of machinery. Tony’s heart beats faster the closer they get, rattling against his ribcage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we are,” Natasha says softly as they reach the edge of the wormhole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we are,” Tony says, swallowing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no noticeable difference when they enter the rift. If the air seems to get a few degrees cooler, Tony’s sure it’s just his imagination. Outside, the distant galaxies suddenly seem closer and brighter, more welcoming than before. They blur past as the Benatar makes its way ever onward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s… beautiful, actually, the muted colors and lights. They seem to spiral around the ship, a kaleidoscope of stars and planets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter lets out a soft gasp from his place at the window, and Tony looks at him, smiling slightly. The kid looks even younger than he usually does in the multicolored light, wonderment etched across his face, and Tony wonders - not for the first time - why SHIELD allowed someone so young and vulnerable to come along on the mission.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone needs to stay here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter looks up from the floor and stares at Tony. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can’t all go down to Maximoff’s planet,” Tony says. “We need someone to stay up here and make sure the ship doesn’t just fly away, if this is actually going to take years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter jiggles his knee and looks back to the floor. “So… someone’s gonna have to wait for years for everyone else to come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony sniffs. “...yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s going to do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s going to do what?” Natasha asks, walking into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter jumps. He's been doing that a lot lately, always on edge. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone needs to stay on the ship,” Tony says, sighing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why can’t Vision do that?” Natasha says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Peter furrows his brow. “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vision do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “Vision needs to go down to the Maximoff planet to store information. None of us has a perfect memory, or the ability to calculate equations on the fly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha shrugs. “I’ll do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll what?” Peter says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do realize this is going to be years of waiting and doing nothing?” Tony says with a frown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she says plainly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t we consult Doctor Banner on this first?” Peter asks, looking between Natasha and Tony. “Just to - have everyone’s opinion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consult me on what?” says Bruce from the doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speak of the devil,” Tony mutters. “Someone needs to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-stay on the ship,” Bruce interrupts. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll stay,” Natasha says again. “It makes sense, I’m the one best acquainted with the workings of SHIELD, I can relay messages-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense. I need to be the one to stay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter sinks into his chair, letting his chin rest on his chest. It’s like watching a tennis match.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you need to be the one to stay?” Tony asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking,” says Bruce, “we’re right next to the black hole if the Benatar stays in the outer edge of Maximoff’s orbit. It should be close enough for me to collect information on it, and I can’t think of anyone better suited to study Titan than me. And if I’m able to learn enough, I could help solve the gravity equation to get SHIELD off the ground.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha and Tony exchange looks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has a point, you have to admit,” Tony says, almost apologetically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” says Peter, sitting up straighter. “This doesn’t make sense. All of you are - uh, not old, but - older than </span>
  <em>
    <span>me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If I’m the one to stay, I can study Titan </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>remain… relatively young, even if it takes years-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tony says firmly. “That’s not even - a valid argument, you’re a biochemist-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know physics!” Peter protests, slightly offended.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tony repeats. “Nobody else is qualified like you are to study the biocapacity of Maximoff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter scowls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter, it’s a good idea, but I have to be the one to stay,” Bruce says. “And I’m not going to be old when you come back. At most, you’ll be gone for seven to ten years-” Peter sees Tony’s face blanch. “-and even if it’s longer, I can put myself in cryo for short periods of time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Peter mutters. “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad we have that sorted out, boys,” Natasha says. “Now, if we’re done bickering - is it time to go to Maximoff?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Peter’s hands shake as he puts on his spacesuit. It’s not out of nerves, really - he’s trained practically his whole adult life for something like this. But this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>another planet. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s only ever been on Earth, and now he’s about to set foot on another </span>
  <em>
    <span>planet </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a different </span>
  <em>
    <span>galaxy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The thought should scare him, but he has butterflies of excitement fluttering in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” Tony asks him, snapping his helmet into place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Peter says. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ll be alright once we actually get down there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter smiles. “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They clamber into the shuttle that’ll take them down to the Maximoff planet - deep red in color and slightly smaller than Earth, with wispy clouds scattered over the surface.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha clicks on the comm link. “See you in a minute, Banner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce’s voice comes through a second later, slightly staticy. “I’ll see you soon. Remember, every hour on Maximoff is gonna be about seven years for me, so - do your best not to linger, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll try,” Tony says, flicking a switch that makes the console light up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter takes a deep breath and adjusts the straps that cross over his chest, holding him in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we ready?” Tony asks the shuttle at large.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready for takeoff,” Vision says from where he’s folded up behind Peter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony smiles. “Great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The craft roars to life, and Peter feels the vibration in his bones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Undocking in three… two… one,” Tony says, and there’s a strange sense of weightlessness as the shuttle detaches from the Benatar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“T-minus three minutes, fifteen seconds until landing,” Vision says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Natasha says drily. “So, what can we expect on Maximoff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” says Peter, trying to remember what he learned about each of the planets. “It’s pretty similar to Mars in that it’s covered in dust, but the water’s not in ice form. There should be various seas across the surface, and… there’s evidence to suggest there might be plant life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, but we can’t confirm any of that,” Tony says. “Something probably went wrong with Maximoff’s transmitting equipment. There haven’t been new messages for a couple years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An uneasy feeling starts pooling in Peter’s stomach. He takes another deep breath and peers out the window at Maximoff, at the slowly-moving clouds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The craft shakes as it goes through the atmosphere, and Peter clutches at his seatbelt, gritting his teeth. It’s like the whole shuttle wants to explode, and a few nuts and bolts are everything stopping that from happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m picking up a signal from Maximoff’s equipment,” says Natasha, looking at a screen in her lap. “A few miles toward the equator.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Tony says, turning the shuttle toward the indicated location. The ground flies by below them, miles and miles of red dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Natasha says some minutes later. “This is pretty close to the signal. We can walk the rest of the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony gently sets the shuttle down on the surface. With a sigh of relief, Peter undoes his seatbelt and stands up, stretching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time’s ticking,” Tony says, opening the hatch. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping out onto Maximoff’s planet feels… strange. Since the planet’s smaller than Earth, there’s less gravity, and Peter’s feet are light. He jumps experimentally, and while it’s pretty similar to bouncing on a trampoline, he’s slower to land.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is crazy,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Tony and Natasha.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crazy’s one word for it,” says Tony, squinting from behind his helmet. “Which way’s Maximoff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Maximoff should be about a quarter mile this way,” says Vision, rolling out of the shuttle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Peter says. “Why’d we land so far away?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony barks a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you want to see the sights a bit, Parker?” Natasha asks, walking past him as she follows Vision. “Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They start walking. It’s warm inside Peter’s suit, but not overly hot - almost like a nice summer’s day. He imagines what it would be like to live on this planet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know there were mountains here,” Tony says about two minutes later, eyes trained on the horizon. “Didn’t the initial scans say it was mostly flat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter follows his gaze and frowns. There are towering mountains on the edge of the horizon, red as the rest of the planet is. “Weird. Maybe the cameras didn’t pick it up correctly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Tony mutters sourly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Maximoff should be here,” Vision says suddenly, stopping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter blinks and looks around. “Where?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's nothing but dust for miles and miles. None of the plant life Natasha said there might be, no seas, nothing to deviate from the ed plains except the mountains far on the horizon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha bends down and picks up something covered in dust. “Is this-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s the transmission equipment,” Tony says, taking the object from her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that Peter’s looking more closely, he sees that the thing in Tony’s hands is a mess of wires and metal, the crevices filled with red dirt. Actually, the ground around them is littered with similarly destroyed equipment, scattered in all directions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is bad,” he murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony looks over at him. “Maximoff could’ve crashed on entry,” he suggests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha shakes her head, picking up another piece of metal. “Not likely. There are backups for those eventualities.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what was it?” Peter asks uneasily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony crouches and brushes his fingers over the ruined equipment. “Vision, where’s Maximoff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not able to sense any life forms in a quarter-mile radius besides ourselves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter looks at the horizon again, toward the mountains, and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, “are the mountains bigger?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We walked toward them, kid,” Tony says, not looking up. “That’s how vision works.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no,” Peter says, letting a hint of urgency creep into his voice. “No, they’re getting bigger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stark, he’s right,” Natasha says, standing quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony looks up, curses, and drops the transmission equipment. “Vision, what are the chances that’s a dust storm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite likely,” Vision says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to go now,” Tony says. “God, I thought we got away from this when we left Earth-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They start running, their footfalls kicking up clouds of dust. Every step is a small reminder of what’s coming toward them. Peter looks ahead at the horizon and sees another cloud of dust - they’re surrounded on all sides by the storm. They can’t outrun it. Their only hope is to get to the shuttle and fly away, but as the clouds get closer, he realizes just how tall they are. The red dust stretches at least a mile into the sky, converging toward the parked shuttle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They barely make it. Peter’s first to run up the ramp and into the craft, immediately turning to see Vision rolling in after him, followed by Natasha and Tony. As soon as he’s in, Tony slaps a button on the wall, and the hatch starts to close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone in your seats!” Tony says. “Strap yourselves in - we’re not gonna escape this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hatch clicks closed as Peter stretches his seatbelt over himself. Out the window, the wall of dust is getting ever closer, the fine particles looking almost like a tinted gas-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shuttle rocks with a buffet of wind as the first wave of dust hits. Tony, on his way to the pilot’s seat, stumbles and falls, his head hitting the edge of the console.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tony,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peter says, panicked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a line of blood on Tony’s temple, already running toward his cheekbone. He’s not unconscious, but he seems to be mostly unaware of his surroundings, if the glazed-over look in his eyes is anything to go by. Almost without thinking about it, Peter starts to undo his seat belt, half-rising to go help Tony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Natasha hisses, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “That’s only the start of the storm. If you get up, you’ll be compromising yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter glares daggers at her. “I’ll be fine, Doctor Romanoff, but Mister Stark is going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>die-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not going to die. Head wounds bleed a lot. He’ll come to in just a second and help himself-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her words are drowned out by the roar of wind outside the shuttle. Dust and small rocks skitter across the windshield and roof, sounding like rain on a metal building. The craft shakes under the force of the storm, sending Tony’s prone body sliding across the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to help him-” Peter starts, having to shout to be heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shifts on the floor, blinking. He winces and presses a hand to his head, then immediately uses that hand to grab the bottom of the pilot’s seat as the shuttle is rocked again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Peter asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony groans. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to get out of here,” Peter says. “Can you-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony pulls himself into the chair and pulls the seatbelt across his chest. “We can’t fly in this weather. We’ll have to wait until the storm’s over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long is that going to be?” Peter asks, swallowing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s becoming more and more acutely aware of the fact that every minute going by is a portion of a year on Earth. They’ve already been on the planet for - how long has it been? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? An hour? It’s hard to tell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m estimating the storm will last an additional ten to twenty minutes,” says Vision from the corner. “It will take another hour to clear all systems of the dust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter feels like he’s just been punched in the gut. That’s another hour and twenty minutes on top of how long they’ve been here. Based on his most conservative estimates, almost fourteen years will have passed by the time they get back to the Benatar. But if he’s wrong - if they were on the planet for an hour before the storm hit, that’s nearly twenty years. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Twenty years. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He feels sick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony’s looking at him, something of Peter’s own horror etched into the lines of his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t we - is there any way that can be sped up?” Peter asks desperately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid not,” says Vision as the ship is hit with a particularly powerful gust of wind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking gulps of air, Peter looks out the window. The view is almost completely obscured by dust and sand. It’s nearly impossible to see through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll be fine,” Natasha says, as though she can sense Peter’s rising panic. “It’ll be okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony’s nostrils flare, but he remains silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a torturous hour and a half of sitting and waiting, first for the storm to stop and then for the shuttle to reboot its systems, get rid of the dust clogging each and every crevice. Peter hardly breathes through the whole process. Every eight minutes, he thinks about the year that’s gone by on Earth. If SHIELD’s solved the gravity problem. What MJ’s doing. If May’s still-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the shuttle finally lifts off from the surface of Maximoff, it’s like a bubble bursts. Peter takes a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair, biting his cheek. Natasha shifts in her seat, her eyes looking suspiciously wet. Tony doesn’t say anything as he guides the craft back to the Benatar. It looks the same as it did when they left it mere hours ago. There’s no noticeable damage to it - nothing to suggest that anything bad has happened while they were gone. Even so, Peter feels lightheaded as the shuttle attaches itself to the Benatar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re back,” says Natasha softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter dry-swallows. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hatch opens and they step out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ship is quiet. Tony feels like his footsteps are disproportionately loud, echoing throughout the ship. Nobody speaks as they ghost through the hallways, searching for Bruce. For a moment, Tony worries Bruce died while he was alone, but eventually, he finds them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re back,” he says, searching their faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re back,” Natasha responds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter shifts from foot to foot. “How… how long were we gone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fifteen years,” Bruce says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fifteen years. Fifteen. Years. Morgan is twenty-five. She’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>adult. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’s lived without Tony longer than she did with him. She’s older than Peter, might be married, have children of her own-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you go into cryo?” Natasha asks behind the blood rushing in Tony’s ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Off and on,” Bruce answers, muffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room around Tony seems to be getting smaller. It’s like he can’t get a full breath. It’s like his ribcage is constricting his lungs, he can’t breathe-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimly, Tony hears Peter say, “Did we get any transmissions from Earth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t hear the response. He’s already turning around, walking back through the hallway, past the dining area, the cryo room, the control room-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a ringing in his ears, even louder than his heartbeat. He’s drowning. He’s drowning. This wasn’t - did he think? When he decided to come up here, did he actually think about what it would mean? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His last memories of Earth are from a few days ago, but it’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>seventeen years </span>
  </em>
  <span>since he was last there. Seventeen years. That’s an unfathomably long time. It’s almost two decades. And they’re not even finished. There’s no telling how long it’ll be until he’s home again, until everything is fine-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mister Stark?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony blinks. He’s standing in the cabin, his hands clenched into fists. Peter’s standing uncertainly in the doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kid,” he says. “What are you-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Peter interrupts, walking carefully into the room. “You just… left back there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony sinks into the pilot’s seat and runs a hand over his jaw. When was the last time he shaved? Was it days or years?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he forces out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, Peter sits down next to him. Slowly. As if they have all the time in the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay if you’re not,” he says. “I - I’m not. I mean - seventeen years? I’d be forty if I’d been on Earth all this time, and that’s-” He lets out a short laugh. “That’s crazy. And my aunt… I don’t know if she’s still alive. She might be, but. I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony swallows. “My daughter’s twenty-five now,” he says. “Which I - I can’t fathom. I thought I’d get to watch her grow up. But now - she already has, and I can’t. I can’t change anything about this, I can’t travel back in time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter’s watching him, his eyebrows tilted up, sympathetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony smiles for an instant. “Join the club.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But,” Peter continues, “it doesn’t have to be all bad, you know? I mean, we’re out of the time dilation. Everything’s moving at a normal speed. As long as we get to the other two planets quickly enough, we’ll be back within…” His face darkens for a moment. “You know. Five to ten years. It’ll all be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony sighs. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And, trust me, your daughter hasn’t grown up already. I mean, she’s almost the same age as me, and I’m… I still feel so young, some days. There’s still so much more she has to do, and when we get back, you can do it all with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For feeling young,” Tony says sardonically, “you sound pretty wise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter smiles. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it helps Tony feel a little better about everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until Natasha walks in and says, “We were on Maximoff for too long. There’s not enough fuel left in the Benatar to get back to Earth through the wormhole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony’s only consolation is that when he looks at Peter, his own horror is mirrored right back at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not go gentle into that good night</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alrighty, so I don't have the entire last chapter written yet, and I'm going to be with some family this next week. I'll do my best to get the chapter written and edited before Friday, but if I don't do it in time, do not despair! I'll still be posting it at some point.</p>
<p>Let me know your thoughts &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What are we thinking? Let me know your thoughts!!</p>
<p>Barring any catastrophes, I should be posting weekly, so see you here next Friday &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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